within herself again and he could get nothing more out of her. He
would have believed that she actually disliked him, had it not
been for the fact that whatever he said, she took as gospel, that
wherever he chanced to be there she was, her ears open, her
somber, meditative eyes fixed upon him. Evidently she did not
actually dislike him; he decided finally that she was studying
him, striving to analyze and to weigh him to her own complete
satisfaction before trusting him further than she had.

When it drew near the time for him to leave, and he announced that
the driver of his hired car had been instructed to return for him,
there was protest, loud and earnest, from the Briskows, father and
son. Buddy actually sulked at being denied the pleasure of driving
his hero to town in the new car, and told about a smooth place on
a certain detour where he could "get her up to sixty mile an
hour." "If it was longer, she'd do a hundred," he declared.

Pa Briskow was worried for the security of the diamonds, and
assured Gray that it was unsafe to trust those service-car
drivers.

But the latter, seeing a threat to his carefully matured plans,
refused to listen. "There's one thing you can do for me," he told
them. "You can give me a pint of cream."

"Cream? What for?" The family regarded him with amazement.

"I'm fond of it. If you have no cream, milk will do."

"Pshaw! I'll put up a hull basket of lunch for you," Mrs. Briskow